


Don’t tread on me

by ASarahRosetterA



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canon Universe, Countries Using Human Names, Crossdressing, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Historical, How Do I Tag, My First Fanfic, Revolutionary War, Sad Ending, Time Skips, fluff-ish, idk how to write angst, sort of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASarahRosetterA/pseuds/ASarahRosetterA
Summary: It's the 1600's, Charles II is the king, and America is at his first party.One hundred years later times are tough and he has to reflect.What do you do when you have to fight against the one you love more than anything?





	Don’t tread on me

**Author's Note:**

> This is not nyotalia, so no Alice.
> 
> Just a little "What if" that popped up in my head...
> 
> This is my first fanfic so I hope it's enjoyable, and I hope its not too OOC...  
> I have no idea if people will read this story, so if you are reading this thank you (!!!) and I hope I don't waste your time.

Sometime in the mid-late 1600's

The candlelight glistened in the dark window while America’s eyes glistened with tears. This was his first formal gathering, and he was all alone. England had entered the ball with him, however she had excused herself to speak with a war general about the current dilemma in Europe. Thus, the colony was left to be surrounded by nosy elite Britons poking him with a stick like he was some inquisitive new world specimen.

“Oh, you are such an adorable young man,” a baroness chuckled. “Do you belong to the Kirkland household?”

“No, I don’t. My title is simply just Alfred. I am an honorary guest of Vice Admiral Arthur Kirkland. I am not his relative nor his servant,” he replied, attempting a small smile.

Another voice, “you are rather underage to be unacquainted here.”

“I am more of age then you are lead to believe,” he huffed back, cursing his fifteen-year-old appearance. Alfred knew he usually enjoyed the attention of others, however, this crowd was just insulting. Arrogant aristocrats, judging him. When he asked to attend the ball with Anne, he simply wanted to experience the culture of the strong beautiful nation-empire he had fallen for. Instead he had been abandoned in a sea of people and customs he knew nothing about.

Alfred decided he finally had enough of being a specimen to observe. He gripped the tight collar of his short-waisted doublet and set out to find his beloved green-eyed navygirl, known as Arthur to all these clueless nobles. Damn this, he wished she didn’t have to conceal her true identity to be respected here.

As he walked, his eyes scanned over the crowd, passing over a collection of rich red patterns and puff sleeves. Suddenly, he noticed a bright emerald green and stopped. Time halted as his eyes locked with Anne’s. He cracked a bright smile and the ever-present stars in his eyes glimmered. She smiled tenderly in reply, and his heart raced.

“Ar–” He called, then halted. She was not wearing the men’s clothes she arrived at the ball with. She was clothed in a dress and wore no wig, her long blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail. Emerald colored gems decorated her neck, enhanced by the maroon of the carefully shaped dress that complemented her feminine figure. She held herself strong and proud, yet gentle and kind as she chuckled. He gawked as she stood waiting for him.

“Annie,” he whispered to himself as he approached her softly, his hands held behind his back, then spoke loud enough for her to hear, “I thought you left to speak of politics.”

She held out her hand and he kissed it in greeting. She sighed, her cheeks blushing deeper than usual, “Yes, I did. Arthur has done his job now, so I have now changed, and I promise no more nation talk for the rest of the evening.”

Alfred smiled hopefully, “but where did you store such a dress?”

“I have my resources, dearest colony,” she smirked. 

“No, really!” he chuckled. The simplest things she did could make his heart soar.

“I hid the dress in a spare room. I wore a padded corset in, then after a long pointless conversation about a new tariff deal I was finally informed about the king – the only reason I was there. So, I left and dropped the pads in the room and dressed myself. It’s a godsent concealer for the shape of the torso, pads, you know.” She stumbled a bit, then regained balance.

“You gained information about the king? Oh, how is Charlie Two going?”

“As jolly as ever.”

“What a simple answer!” He joked.

“Yes, I know. A majority of people spend forever speaking of nothing. Welcome to the upper-class ballroom, Alfred,” she rolled her eyes, her voice almost stammering. Anne then linked arms with him and pulled him out to a more open space. “Come, I brought you here to experience my culture, not chat, let’s dance!”

The sounds of the viola and violin had been echoing within the ballroom throughout the evening, however, Alfred did not pay much attention to it before as it was too blurred out by the chatter of the party-goers. Now, being so close to the musicians, he could hear every note in clarity. He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the lively beauty of each jovial note. He then opened one eye to glare at the personification of England.

“Are you… drunk? You are acting rather–”

“Wild? Crazy? Ambitious? Relax, I am not drinking. I simply wish to have fun with you, and teach you to ballroom dance.” She regained her proud lioness posture and creased her large eyebrows determinedly, making America giggle.

“Alright-o, Annie, teach me how to move rhythmically to the sound of an instrument. I bet I’ll be terrible! So, watch out navygirl,” he flashed a bright toothy smile, earning a light slap on his arm.

“Now, now… So, you hold me here and here… yes, there. Now go step… Step… no, the other way. So, it’s up right together, down left together. And we spin a bit here…”

He huffed lightly while acting out her given instructions, slowly losing his attentiveness to the little lesson. He was so close to her, touching her, holding her as they swung to the rhythm. Imagining the two of them like that together, happily ever after, he felt his cheeks as they began to burn. When he finally brought himself back to his senses, he realised she was still speaking.  
“Now, don’t tread on me,” she joked, smile wide and eyes mischievous.

“I won’t!” He giggled lovingly, deciding he felt at home being so close to her.

England and her beloved America continued to follow the music, their souls in perfect matrimony. They danced into the night radiating joy, trust and unity.

 

1775  
Ben Franklin dropped the heavy paperwork load on the desk with a thick thunk. “We need a new sort of motto! General Gadsden has offered to design a new flag as a type of provocative demoralization. Something quick and fast, we’re desperate here.”

A very tired Alfred Jones looked up from his lap, eyes glimmering with hopelessness, “I… I might have a phrase…It won’t demoralize all the redcoats, but it will sure hurt one higher up in particular…” His voice died out into almost a whisper. “It’ll wake them up, make them realize this is real and I am serious about this…” He then spoke up, “but… I don’t want this war to be personal… I don’t want to hurt them anymore than–”

“Use it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love calling Charles II "Charlie Two"


End file.
